Jake had emailed Mary a few times to see how she was doing and to report that Beatrice had had a few words for his parents after Mary and Gran had left. He no longer had to drink the funny-tasting milk. Mary was relieved that he wasn't being drugged any longer. Beatrice had also lectured him on "peeking", how it wasn't good for him to spy on others, and he shouldn't do it without a clear, good reason. Mary had been surprised by Beatrice's reasoned argument for Jake to not use his ability and heartened that she hadn't forbidden it entirely. And her advice was actually sound. Jake shouldn't let his mind's eye zoom everywhere without permission. Spying on others wasn't healthy.

  "I called her a couple of days ago. She's fine. Cranky as ever. I can't be too hard on her though. She's had a hard life."

  Mary quirked an eyebrow at that comment. Gran hadn't had an easy life, either. Losing her husband and her only child were two terrible things to shoulder, especially with raising a grandchild added on top of it all.

  "What do you mean?" Mary asked.

  Gran shook her head.

  The hostess came over to them. "Ladies, your table is ready."

  They got up from the bench and followed the hostess to a small table for two. The hostess handed them menus and said their server would be with them shortly.

  Gran put on her glasses to read the menu.

  "What did you mean about Beatrice?" Mary asked again.

  Gran shook her head. "Nothing. I feel like having a calzone. What about you?"

  Mary frowned at the back of Gran's menu. She debated whether to press Gran for more info. She felt like there was a lot about Beatrice that Gran wasn't telling her.

  The waiter came by to take their drink orders. They both asked for water.

  "Are Rachel and Taryn ready for opening night?" Gran asked.

  Mary nodded, deciding to order the eggplant Parmesan. "Yeah, but Taryn seems pretty nervous."

  "I'm sure she'll be fine."

  Mary agreed. Then she remembered the party. "Kyle and I are going to a party tomorrow night."

  "Oh? Where?"

  "His friend Tyler is throwing it at his house."

  Gran gave her a shrewd look. Mary knew she was wondering about the party, but she had nothing she could say to reassure her. It would most likely be exactly like Gran suspected.

  "Well, just be careful," Gran said. "I'm sure I don't need to worry about you or Kyle, but be careful."

  "We will be. Don't worry."

  Their waiter returned. They gave their orders, and he disappeared.

  Gran folded her hands on the table and took a deep breath. Mary didn't like the look of that.

  "All right. It's time for your favorite subject again: your future."

  Mary groaned and dropped her head.

  "Don't do that. I want to know what your plans are after high school."

  Well, that was simple enough. Mary had it already figured out. "I'm going to Snyder Community College."

  Gran's brow furrowed. "Why not apply to Chapel Hill or some other university? Your grades are good."

  Mary felt uncomfortable having to say this, but it seemed so terribly obvious. "Because we can't afford it."

  Gran frowned. "Don't worry about that. You should apply to wherever you want."

  "Well, I want to go to SCC."

  "Do you? Or do you think it's where you have to go?"

  It was Mary's turn to frown. "I can transfer to a four-year institution after two years. I was thinking one of the satellite programs would be a good fit." She had studied SCC's course listings and programs. She might be settling, but it wasn't a bad deal.

  Gran's eyes narrowed. "Are you planning to live with me forever?"

  Mary laughed, thinking the question was silly. "I don't know. Are you planning to kick me out?"

  "When you're thirty, you're out."

  Mary nodded, still chuckling. She could handle that. It seemed so far away. She was sure she'd have a place of her own long before then.

  "And if you're still living at home when you're twenty-three, you have to start paying rent."

  That sobered Mary up. "Rent? Are you serious?"

  "You should have a degree and a job by then. Why shouldn't you pay rent?"

  Mary could grudgingly agree on that, but the idea that Gran would charge her to stay with her was a little unsettling.

  "You're growing up, Mary."

  Mary fidgeted in her seat. She didn't like thinking about that, and Gran knew it. She still didn't have her driver's license. She couldn't get a job. She wasn't ready to be an adult. She was wholly unprepared.

  "Helena, I'm so happy you made it!"

  Eager to end this awful conversation, Mary turned to the middle-aged woman who had come up to the table. The woman spread her arms, and Gran rose to accept the hug. The woman had short black hair in a pixie cut. She was wearing a red apron with the name of the restaurant across the front in white.

  "Maggie, you're off to a great start. Didn't I tell you, you had nothing to worry about?"

  The woman nodded her head strongly as she let go of Gran. "Yes, tonight is going very well. A month from tonight will be the true test."

  "True, but I still say you'll be fine."

  Maggie's eyes went curiously to Mary. "Is this your granddaughter?"

  Mary smiled up at her. "Guilty."

  Maggie laughed. "Don't worry. Your nonna told me only good things about you."

  Their waiter appeared behind her, caring a tray that appeared to be their food. Maggie moved to the side but picked up the plates to place them on the table. "Oh, you got the calzone and the eggplant parm? Very good choices!"

  Maggie moved from the table to greet other diners, many of whom she seemed to know by name. Mary and Gran picked up their utensils and dug in.

  Mary hadn't had eggplant Parmesan often, but she knew she generally liked it. When she took her first bite, she froze, letting the morsel sit on her tongue. It took willpower to not immediately spit it back onto the plate. All she tasted was salt. Her eyes met Gran's, and Gran appeared to be having a similar experience. Discreetly, Mary raised her napkin and spit her bite into it. Gran did the same. They both reached for their glasses of water to wash out their mouths.

  "Oh, dear," Gran said.

  "Does yours taste like salt, too?"

  Gran nodded. Mary looked around the room at the other diners. The room had been full of casual conversation sprinkled with laughter. People had been eating and appeared to enjoy their food, but as new plates came out, she saw faces blanch, and people put down their forks to spit out the food. Hands rose around the room to call waiters back.

  "Mary?" Gran asked.

  She knew what Gran was asking. She turned on her ability and listened. There was a lot of chatter in the room, but none that gave her chills. The ghost wasn't in the dining room.

  Maggie was by a table where the diner had raised his hand. She pulled a spoon out of her apron and took a bite off his plate. When she tasted it, she was no longer smiling. She appeared mortified. She picked up the plates and apologized profusely to the people seated at the table. The surrounding diners called out to her that their meals were also bad. She turned around helplessly, her hands already full.

  Gran rose from their table. Mary followed her. Waiters were zooming around in a panic. Gran went to Maggie and pushed her toward the kitchen.

  "Go back and start preparing new dishes. We'll bring back the ones that aren't right."

  "But I don't understand!" Maggie's eyes were wide.

  Gran made hushing noises. "We'll figure it out. Go back to the kitchen."

  Mary picked up two plates of barely touched food from a table of disgruntled diners. "Are they both too salty?" she asked.

  "Yes, that's all we can taste," the man said. His wife nodded in agreement.

  "Please accept the restaurant's apologies. New dishes will be prepared."

  The couple nodded, for the moment placated. As Mary took the two dishes back, more people indicated there were problems with their meals. As she turned to go into the kitchen, she scanned the dining room. Every diner appeared to be upset.

  When she entered the kitchen, she stopped. Maggie was rushing from pot to pot, tasting the contents.

  "They're all salty! Who did this?"

  Gran was in there already. She pointed at a trashcan for Mary to dump the food into.

  "This is my restaurant. No two-bit pretend Italian is going to take it away from me."

  Bingo. Mary set down the dirty dishes and met Gran's eyes. She jerked her head toward the back to indicate the direction of the ghost. The simplest solution would be to find the anchor and remove it. But the kitchen was full of staff. They were in her way.

  Gran went to Maggie and pulled her aside. Maggie wrung her hands as Gran whispered into her ear. After a few seconds of whispered conversation, Maggie nodded.

  "Everyone out! Wait outside until I tell you to come back in," Maggie announced.

  The staff looked at her in disbelief.

  "I said out!" she ordered again, her expression turning hard.

  Everyone went out the back door, though they were clearly confused about it. Gran pushed Maggie toward the door as well.

  "Me too?" Maggie asked.

  Gran nodded. "It's for the best. We'll work as quickly as we can."

  Maggie joined her staff outside.

  Once the kitchen was clear, Gran went around switching everything off. Mary took a deep breath. She needed to find the anchor quickly.

  "What was the name of your restaurant?" she asked, moving to the center of the kitchen.

  "You talkin' to me?" He even said it with a touch of a New York accent.

  Mary rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm speaking to you."

  "The Snyder Diner. We served the best onion rings in town."

  Mary vaguely remembered the place from when she was little. Gran had taken her there a few times. "You served really good milkshakes, too," she said. Her internal radar indicated the anchor was all the way back in the kitchen.

  "That we did. You're local, huh?"

  "Born and raised."

  "Yeah, I remember you now. The first time you and your grandmother came in, you were carrying a flower. A purple iris, I think. You were both dressed in black. You lost your parents, right?"

  Goosebumps rose on Mary's arms. She swallowed and tried to keep her focus on the anchor, but having him mention the day of her parents' funeral was unsettling.

  "I remember you asked me if I was an orphan too. You were the saddest little thing. I said yes, and you held out your flower to me, saying I could have it."

  Mary didn't remember any of that. She'd been only four when her parents died. She remembered the funeral a little: sitting beside Gran, her feet dangling off the chair, knowing she had to be quiet. Mommy and Daddy were asleep in the coffins, and they weren't going to wake up. They were in Heaven. She remembered being sad. She remembered all the flowers and thinking they were pretty. She didn't remember getting a flower, but she believed the ghost. Purple irises had been her mother's favorite.

  "Mary?" Gran asked. She looked troubled.

  Mary realized she'd stopped and was just staring into space. She blinked and pushed away the memories, then went to the back of the kitchen. She saw a spatula hanging on the wall. It had "Snyder Diner 1975" engraved on it. She took it down.

  "Hey, what are you doing?"

  The buzz of the object only confirmed her suspicions. She had the anchor.

  "I'm sorry, but it's time for you to go," she said.

  "But this is my diner!"

  "Not anymore."

  "Kid, I don't want to argue with you--"

  "Then don't. Let's go."

  The ghost might have not wanted to argue, but he was ready to put up a fight.

  Pots tipped over and spilled their contents into her path. Red marinara sauce coated the floor, while half-cooked noodles were hurled at the walls. Mary froze as food flew around her. She wasn't scared, but if she took a step, she knew she'd get splattered with something.

  "That is quite enough!" Gran shouted.

  Food stopped flying across the room.

  "I don't want to leave."

  "Didn't you sell this place? Stop being a hypocrite," Gran said.

  Mary blinked and waited for the ghost to respond. He didn't.

  "Well, Harvey Callox?" Gran had her hands on her hips.

  "Where else am I supposed to haunt?" Harvey asked.

  "You don't have to haunt anyplace. You could move on," Mary offered.

  "Move where? This is all I've ever known."

  Mary grimaced. She wished ghosts wouldn't always ask that. She didn't know where ghosts went when they moved on. She just knew that they should.

  "For the time being, you can come home with us," Gran said.

  Mary grimaced more. She didn't like the idea of strange ghosts wandering around their home. It didn't help that the last ghost they'd allowed into their home had drugged and betrayed them.

  Harvey didn't answer.

  Mary took a chance and carefully tiptoed through the spilled food. When she reached Gran and the exit, she held up the spatula and lifted her shoulders. She wasn't sure if she should just go outside or not. Harvey wasn't arguing or resisting, but he hadn't actually agreed to their offer, either.

  Gran took the spatula and stuffed it into her purse. Her bag was quite big. It disappeared inside it. Harvey still didn't protest.

  They went outside where Maggie and her kitchen staff were waiting.

  "It's okay to go back in. Everything is fine now, but there's quite a mess," Gran told them.

  The staff turned to check with Maggie. She motioned for all of them to go back inside. "Clean up and start redoing everything. We've got a lot of hungry people in there. Wait staff, make sure everyone at least has bread sticks."

  Everyone hustled back inside except for Maggie. She stayed outside with Mary and Gran. "You said tonight would be a roaring success."

  "The night's not over yet," Gran said.

  Maggie didn't look convinced. "What happened? Was it a curse?"

  Gran shook her head. "No. Just something left over from the previous owner."

  Maggie's face became worried. "Should I get a priest to bless the kitchen?"

  "Only if it would make you feel better."

  Without a farewell, Maggie went back inside.

  Mary and Gran headed toward the car.

  "Do you think she'll ever come see you again?" Mary asked.

  "Oh, she'll be by for her regular appointment. I'm not worried."

  "I want to stay with my diner."

  "It's not your diner anymore. It's not a diner even. Times change."

  Harvey harrumphed but didn't say anything more.

  "Well, I guess we should head home," Gran said.

  Mary's stomach rumbled.

  "After we stop by a McDonald's," Gran amended.

  "Fast food is trash food. They can't fix a good hamburger to save them."

  "Well, what we were going to have was ruined," Mary said.

  Harvey didn't respond.

  On their way home, they went through a drive-thru. Thankfully, Harvey stayed quiet. Mary snuck a few fries, but was afraid to dig into her meal in case the ghost decided to mess with it.

  When they reached the house, they left the spatula in the car.

  "Are you sure we should leave him in there?" Mary asked, concerned for the station wagon.

  "I'll bring him in after we eat."

  She nodded and flipped her mental switch off and went back to being normal. Well, "normal" being a relative term. She did homework for the next few hours, not relying on the homework fairy this time, though she would always believe, no matter the continued lack of evidence.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Firefighter Ballerina

  Friday, though a school day, always seemed like a good day to Mary, the promise of the weekend sweetening every minute of it, especially as each minute ticked by. Even a visit to Mr. Landa's office couldn't ruin the day for her.

  Her appointment was during third period. She went to his office prepared to report that she was going to a high school party that night, to see the school play the next, and to visit old people on Sunday. All normal teenage things, except that she was actually investigating a possession, but she didn't need to bore Mr. Landa with that.

  "How's your week been?" Mr. Landa asked as an opener.

  Mary shrugged casually. "Fine. Same old, same old." No need to bore him with the cranky dead short order cook.

  "Your grandmother called me this morning."

  Now, that mildly alarmed Mary. Gran, as far as she knew, had never called Mr. Landa, though he had called her plenty of times.

  "She was asking about colleges, wondering about financial aid."

  Mary relaxed. "I told her I was fine going to SCC."

  Mr. Landa nodded. "Yes, but you don't have to go there. Many colleges offer excellent financial aid packages that you could qualify for."

  "I could. It doesn't mean I will."

  "Well, you certainly won't if you don't apply. I'm happy to help you look at colleges and universities. What we need to know first is what you'd like to study."

  Mr. Landa was doing his best to kill her Friday buzz. Every minute seemed to be plodding along now, rather than skipping merrily by.

  "I don't know. I figured I'd major in whatever I get the best grades in."

  Mr. Landa frowned. "This doesn't seem like you."

  "Why?" she asked flatly.

  "Because you've always had a strong sense of yourself. You've never gone with the flow, so to speak."

  She shrugged again, though it was a bit defensive. "I don't know what I want to study. Anything that'll guarantee me a good job is fine."

  "Your grandmother did mention that you seemed to be a bit lost when it came to your future."

  Mary crossed her arms and stared at the front of Mr. Landa's desk. She didn't know why everyone was assuming she knew what she wanted to do with her life. Why did she have to have a plan?

  Mr. Landa held out an iPad. "Here. Fill this out, and maybe it'll give us some ideas."

  Mary took the device. On the screen was a website called Career Aptitude Test. It had a series of multiple-choice questions on the first page asking about her skills. Gran had told her that she'd taken one of these when she was in high school, and it had suggested she be a librarian. Gran had hated the idea. Mary had to admit she couldn't imagine Gran as a librarian either, and she wondered what the test would say for her.

 

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